


Origins: Newt

by Your_Panties



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6467467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_Panties/pseuds/Your_Panties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the beginnings of Newt</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origins: Newt

Out of the corner of his eye, a movement. A quick scurrying of sand across a rock. The little boy whirls, diving into a cloud of sand, fingers slipping through the grains. “Mama! Look!” He stands, proud, a baby lizard in his chubby hands. He grins, that chipped and crooked tooth making it more endearing. “Baby, wha’d I tell ya ‘bout wastin’ energy?” She wants to be stern but there’s no effort behind her scolding. Her little boy, her shooting star, her gulp of water in the baking desert. “Sorry, Mama… But I caught it! Ain’tcha proud’a me?”

His innocent eyes look up at her with such trust, such love, such faith. She smiles, flinching as her tongue brushes a thoroughly rotting tooth, and places her hand on the mess of hair on top of his head. “Yes, lil’ one. Course ‘m proud’a ya. Gotcha self a quick lil’ guy there. S’quite the runner, that one.” She pulls their pack onto her back, rummaging through their saddlebag in search of a bottle for the lizard. “Yer gonna hafta let him go if I ain’t able to find’a bottle, baby.”

Her boys face crumples, fat tears standing in his eyes. “N-no, Mama! I caught ‘im.” She sighs, finding a bottle and handing it to him. “S’okay, baby. Found one.” Her lil’ boy grins, snatching it from her and plopping his newfound friend inside. “Ya gonna name’im?” He nods furiousy, staring wonderingly at the lizard. “Imma name ‘im...um…” He looks around at the sand-sunken debris around them. They’re standing in what must have once been a large city. Tall, crumpling buildings and highways only ghosts walk surround them, his little curious eyes darting over everything. 

 

“Imma name ‘im… Titan!” His mama takes his hand, “That’s a big name fer a lil’ lizard.” There’s a heavy pause as they begin walking again, the boy watching his feet press into the city ground. “Mama, what’s m’name?” Oh, how she’s dreaded this moment. The moment her little boy learned that she wasn’t really his mama. She had found him, an infant in the aftermath of the wars, her breasts heavy and eager to feed her murdered infant. Her new boy was lying, wailing, in a small city she’d been traveling through. She fed him, cleaned and clothed him like he was her own son. Now about six years old, he had no name. She hadn’t planned to love him as fiercely as she did. She opened her mouth to speak as a round of gunshots rattled around the dead city.

She scrambles, ducking and dragging her son into the rustling lobby of an old skyscraper. “Mama!” She draws him close, his back against her and her fingers covering his mouth. “Hush now, baby.” Her heart pounds, her eyes watering as she stars at the bright sands and listens for more shouts, gunshots. Her throat is tight, her hope dissolving when she notices their footprints, plain in the sand. “Stay in the building, okay, baby? Find some stairs and start climbin’. Do not foll’a me.” She dashes out into the scorching sun again without waiting for an answer. 

Se kneels down on her hands and knees, swishing the sands of the footprints and trying to rid the grains of their journey. The revving of engines, high shouts of excitement and haphazard gunshots are less than a block away now; she spares a glance back at the building, searching the broken windowns of the stairwells for her boy. She spots him, maybe one and a half floors up up, standing in plainview. She opens her mouth to yell, to tell him to hide when the revving of engines surrounds her. She looks back, slowly standing and looking panickedly at the boys around her. 

“A’ight there, lass, stap ya movin’ ‘n everythin’ ‘ll be jus’ fine, eh?” She freezes, quiveringin fear but staring defiantly into the eyes of the Imperator. “I ain’t gonna foll’a yer rules, boy. I ain’t got nothin’ interstin’.” The rest of the boys laugh, the driver’s revving their engines. “Yer wrong ‘bout thatone, dearie. We know ya got’cherself a boy. Tell us wh’re ‘e is ‘n you won’t’ve any trouble.” 

Out of instinct, she glances up and checks on her boy. The Imperator grins widely, the paint coating on his face wrinkling around the edges of his lips. “We got’a live one, mates.” He looks at the window, smile turning feral when he spots her son. “Nuke, you ‘n Split go grab ‘em.” She screams, making a dash for the lobby. “Dontcha touch my son!” The two boys are faster, their guns giving them an advantage. They race up the stairs, grinning wickedly as the woman cries for her son. 

“No! Not my baby! Take me- please!” She’s on her knees now, begging. The Imperator kicks her in the chest, pressing his boot down hard against her sternum until it cracks and she’s wheezing for breath. “We don’t need ya, lass.” He aims his gun at her face, pulls the trigger. The shot echoes off the buildings, the wastes silent. “Mama!” The boy sobs, his little fingers clutching at the bottle with his lizard friend inside. The two boys standing in front of him stare down at him. “Yer comin’ with us, kid.” The one with a split pupil snarls, “Nuke, take th’ lizard. Mak’a good snack later. Mak’a good name fer ya too, eh, kid. Newt.”


End file.
